Astray
by Nightscrawlearth
Summary: Her mutation made her a prime target. AU. For Nightscrawlearth. By Starfish.


A sudden shock, a surge of pain, followed by cold darkness – the less than pleasant things that made up her most recent memories. Any sense of time and location had been lost, as her mind continued to drift from unconsciousness into a dreamlike haze and back again. Hours could have passed in this state; days perhaps, while she remained too unfocused to know or care.

The sound of a knuckle tapping against glass tore Cessily out of her random thoughts. She yet refused to open her eyes, even as the awareness slowly returned to her body. Had she moved her fingers? Did she even have fingers or a human form? She couldn't tell.

"Wakey, wakey," someone said. The voice sounded muffled, as if it had to pass through a solid barrier.

Cessily moved, slowly, feeling her arms and legs. Whatever it was that had happened to her, the subconscious part of her mind must have kept her in a human shape. It helped immensely with gaining her bearings now. She was touching something hard and cold.

"Time to rise and shine, my sleeping silver beauty," the same voice persisted. It seemed to belong to a man. Soft, not too old, filled with false friendliness.

Moments later, the face belonging to that voice appeared, blurry at first, then gained sharpness as her vision returned. Cessily blinked, keeping her eyes half-open.

"Ah, there you are," the man said. His lips were smiling, but his eyes were not.

Looking at him, Cessily tried to focus her sight. He appeared nondescript enough – average built and height, glasses, his ginger hair kept slightly wild in the attempt to maintain a youthful air, but not unruly enough to clash with corporate sensibilities.

And still, something about his appearance seemed off.

"Who are you?" Despite having just woken from a slumber of unknown length, her voice was sharp and clear as always. "Where am I?"

"I understand you have many questions." The man rearranged his glasses, still wearing the fake smile. "My name is Doctor Adam Harkin. As for your whereabouts, let's say you are my guest for the time being."

As he spoke, Cessily finally realized what it was that seemed off about his voice and appearance: Both arrived slightly distorted, caused by the translucent barrier between the two of them. She reached out, feeling the same cold and hard surface she must have touched earlier. Looking to either side confirmed the dreadful thought that entered her mind first: She was encased inside a tube made of glass.

From one moment to the next she was wide awake, pushing against her transparent prison and beating it with her balled fists. There was no reaction except for the dull sounds and vibrations caused by her strikes, the thick material absorbing all of her spent energy.

"What are you doing with me? Open this thing! Come on, let me out!" Her voice caused an echo inside the confined tube, the glass swallowing most of the sound.

The man calling himself Dr. Harkin merely chuckled in response to the mutant girl's outburst.

"That would defeat the purpose of putting you in this containment unit in the first place, wouldn't it," he said. "And while I'm sure you will want to convince yourself of that fact yourself, perhaps I can spare us both some time by assuring you that this special construction will resist any attempts to break it."

Cessily had no intention to disappoint, eager to be put his claim to the test. Raising her hands, turned into vicious looking spiked maces, came crashing against the glass above and around her – or what looking like glass, because her strikes left no marks on the transparent surface.  
She didn't let that discourage her just yet, however. Teeth gritted and jaw clenched, she tried something else, attempting to slice through the thick layer with sharp blades, before turning to heavy looking picks next.

"Are you done yet," Harkin asked, looking unimpressed behind the thick glass as he watched the silver shifter's fruitless efforts to break from her prison. "I'd really love to proceed with something a little more productive now."

Still having other plans, Cessily continued her assault on her prison. The narrow, translucent tube was confined enough to hinder her movements, making it hard to gain the momentum for a proper strike. Even if that had been possible, she began to doubt that the material would budge to brute force. Turning into liquid silver, she instead tried to find any kind of gap that would have allowed her to slip through.

"Note that this device has been specifically constructed to hold someone with your abilities," Harkin remarked. "You're wasting your strength and my time."

"You'll regret it if you don't free me at once," Cessily said, reforming from a metallic blob, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the ginger man. "My friends will find me. And they will come for me."

"Please, can we skip over the stereotypical threats already," Harking replied, deliberately sounding bored. "I was well aware of the risks involved when I decided to pursue this particular line of work."

Cessily paused, forcing herself into a calm state to study the man behind the barrier of glass. She had to assess the situation she was in. Reckless action wouldn't get her anywhere; that much had been made obvious already.

"Trask," she eventually stated, the memories of their trip to the alleged mutant therapy camp resurfacing as Cessily allowed her thoughts to sort themselves. "You're working for him."

"Close, but I'm afraid you overestimate Mr. Trask's involvement," Harkin replied after a brief moment of silence. "He shares no affiliation with us except for being another customer."

"Customer," Cessily asked, frowing. "Do I want to know what you're offering?"

"Knowledge. Experience. Innovation." Harkin smiled, instantly reminded Cessily of a slick corporate salesman. "He was looking for a particular set of skills and tools to further his own project. As circumstances would have it, his requirements overlapped with our expertise."

"What expertise?" Her voice carried a hint of contempt. "Locking people into test tubes and talking them to death?"

"Not quite." Harkin chuckled. "Let's say we are specialized in finding solutions for other people's problems. We offer fresh insights and unconventional perspectives, unburdened by the limits of moral and ethical constraints."

Cessily's brow furrowed as she gave Harkin a withering stare. "So, let me guess, you're working for someone who's decided that their problem is mutants, am I right?"

"Hm?" Harkin returned the captive girl's frown. "Oh, no, quite the contrary – they believe mutants might be the solution."

He turned to the side, now facing a console close to the tube containing the mutant girl. Flipping a switch brought it to colourful life.

"You see, most of the solutions we offer are of, how shall I put it... a rather destructive nature," he continued, glancing over her shoulder at his captive. "Oh, spare me these looks. We're hardly to blame to for other people's desire to harm each other, are we? All we do is supply what they demand."

"And you can spare me the justifications," Cessily replied, an icy expression on her face. "Tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, but don't waste your time trying to convince me you're just a victim of circumstances or some other self-righteous nonsense."

Harkin hit a few more buttons on the console. An electric humming could be heard from beyond the metallic ceiling that Cessily's tube was attached to. The doctor turned back to look at his involuntary guest.

"Rest assured, I'm here for results foremost," he told her. "Unlike some of my colleagues, I derive joy from my work without indulging in any pretensions."

Cessily looked up, towards the source of the undefinable sound. Tiny seams had appeared in the previously flawless metallic surface that sealed the top of the tube.

"Which doesn't stop you from talking an awful lot," Cessily replied, not sounding nearly as confident as she would have liked.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she watched the hard covers of her prison slide away to reveal unsafe looking devices. She did her best not to appear too unsettled, but still couldn't help trying to instinctively slide away from whatever it was. Unfortunately, the narrow tube offered precious little space to move.

Now now, I foresee us spending quite some time together and no one likes awkward silence," Harkin said, increasing the intensity of the electric hum through the press of another button. That unsettling smile returned. "And seeing how your peculiar physique won't allow us to keep you sedated during the procedures, we may very well engage in some conversation."

He shrugged awkwardly. "Well, I will be, mostly," he added. "I'd actually be impressed if you remained able to respond with any more than unintelligible noise."

Cessily clenched her jaw, forcing her gaze off the strange instruments. "So what now," she asked Harkin. "You're going to torture and then kill me? Because, let's face it, you wouldn't be so chatty if you had any intentions of letting me go."

"Ah, yes," Harkin replied, while pushing his glasses further up on his nose. "Understandable you might be concerned about this. However, let me tell you that you're infinitely more valuable to us alive than dead, and we don't tend to be protective of our investments."

Another press of a button, and the electric hum rose into a menacing whine. Before Cessily could even finish thinking about whether or not to lash out at the instruments approaching her, she felt a tug on her limbs. It held her against the floor of the tube, unable to move, even when she attempted to shift into her liquid form. It took her only moments to realize that it was a powerful magnetic field restraining her.

"What I can't guarantee, however, is your physical integrity," Harkin continued, his smile having lost the last pretence of sympathy. He flipped another switch.

Cessily's response was cut short when the laser beam cut into her metallic skin.


End file.
